Believing is not a Science
by Telski
Summary: Jack swims out of a puddle to find the world a different place, while S.H.E.I.L.D. loses the tesseract to a certain god of lies who may or may not be working alone. You can't defeat fear when you don't know its fear you're fighting, and Jack isn't about to let a bunch of adults get the world's butt kicked. Besides, messing with these non-believers is just too much fun to pass up.
1. Chapter 1

**In which stuff happens involving Jack and the Avengers. Hopefully written well enough that you find it interesting to read. Should I continue it?  
**

ooo000ooo

Darkness. It was the first thing Jack noted as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Wherever he was, it was dark, and it was cold.

His ice-blue eyes trailed listlessly through the water, their vision blurred and shrouded in the shadow of lids struggling to stay open. At some point they had managed to peel apart. He couldn't remember when. His body felt numb, and an effort to bring a hand to steady his pounding head only produced a slight twitching of his fingers. Somewhere very far away, warning bells were going off in his mind, dulled by the fog that seemed to have taken up residence between his ears during the time he was... asleep? Unconscious?

Sleep called out to him, soft but persistent, distracting his loosely organized thoughts with ease. Muddled as his mind was, his instincts for action were easily overpowered by his desire to lapse into comforting nothingness once more. His eyelids drifted shut as he succumbed back into the black cradle that clouded him, wishing the alarm in his brain would stop ringing soon.

_Wake up, dammit._

In the span of what could have been a second or a century, a spark of adrenaline coursed through Jack's veins, prying open his eyes and forcing the fog to dissipate ever so slightly. Jack needed to focus, according to the shouting in his brain. Groggily, he turned his head to look about. Where was he?

_Tooth, Santa, Sandman, Bunny._ Unbidden memories flooded his mind, bringing him up to speed on all he could remember.

_Jamie. Pitch._

The battle between the Guardians and the Bringer of Darkness in Burgess. He remembered it all, yet had no recollection of how he had come to be where he was.

_Manny._

For an instant, Jack could have sworn it was more than his imagination that the silver light of the Man in the Moon seemed to penetrate the murky abyss in which he found himself floating. Manny would have an explanation, Jack realized, even if the mysterious demi-deity didn't feel like sharing what it was. Decidedly, it was the best place to start, if not his only real option at the moment. Forcing the last of the drowsy veil from his mind, Jack thrashed his legs wildly and began to kick in the direction that he could only hope was the surface.

Several minutes later he broke through to air. Jack had never been a good swimmer, and as he coughed the liquid from his lungs he thought with some irony that it was a good thing he was dead, else he would have certainly died several feet below. Water streamed off his white bangs and down his forehead, stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision as he struggled to stay afloat. Trying to clear them with his sleeve (also notably drenched, making the whole effort useless) he felt blindly with his free hand for the shore and was surprised to find it right next to his side- in the form of hard, albeit unevenly cut cement.

This wasn't the lake then, but some man made pool instead. He dragged himself from the water and shook off his hands so he could properly wipe his eyes. Water, he decided, was only fun when in ice or crystal form.

"Wha-?"

Again able to see, Jack stared dumbly at the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, and after a moment's hesitation rubbed them vigorously to be sure he wasn't seeing a trick of the dark.

The pool he had climbed from was not so much a pool as it was a _puddle_- literally an accumulation of drain water in the corner of what Jack suspected might be a long abandoned warehouse. The dim light filtering through the high-up windows made it hard to see much of anything, but Jack could tell that the water barely spanned three feet wide at the most. Ignoring the impossibility of the depth, this was hardly the distance he had swam horizontally in his attempt to resurface.

It troubled him more than he would have cared for.

He crouched down to inspect the water further. If there were such thing as a 'normal abandoned warehouse' puddle, as far as appearances went Jack supposed this would be it. Thick with grime and smelly and stagnant, there were even bits of soggy newspaper and hair floating around on the surface- hair that did not belong to him, he might add. With a grimace he decided that either a shower or blizzard was of order as soon as he figured out what was going on.

Warily, Jack rolled up a sleeve and eased his hand into the water again. He barely got two inches deep before connecting with the cement floor.

His heart rate seemed to find this an appropriate excuse to spike in an attempt at inducing cardiac arrest. Jack withdrew his hand as fast as if it had been stuck in a vat of acid. The black water rippled silently, staring up at him. Jack had never encountered magic like this. "Manny!" He hollered, his voice echoing in the large, empty room. Could it somehow be Pitch's doing? Jack did not enjoy being thoroughly spooked. It was time to get some answers, now. As he spun on his heel he looked up at the windows to see if he they were large enough to fly through.

_Where the hell was his staff?_ The sudden realization hit him like an unexpected punch in the gut, sending him reeling backwards in shock and fright.

Jack's staff was his life. More than that, it was the gateway to releasing his power. Without it, he couldn't even frost the ground beneath his feet. He couldn't make it snow, or create the perfect snowballs, or lift off to go visit Tooth or Bunny or North when he was feeling bored. Hell, he couldn't even understand the wind. Jack's staff never left his grip, not even in his sleep. Panic morphed to anger, which quickly turned to desperation. Apprehensions about the mysterious puddle forgotten, he ran into it's center, bare feet kicking up black water and garbage alike in a frenzied attempt to find his staff.

It wasn't there. _Could it have been left floating in the water with him?_

With a snarl of frustration, Jack tore across the room, searching every nook and cranny and hiding space there was in the rather empty space. It didn't take long, and when it became irrefutable that his staff wasn't there, he sprinted down the hallway and into the next room. And the next. And the next.

Seven rooms later, he stood panting in the entrance hall of the massive building, jaw set in a worried grimace as his mind swarmed, trying to come to grips with his situation. His staff was gone without a trace.

_Panic will get you nowhere but dead Jack_, he reminded himself, pressing his forehead against the cold stone of the wall- a small but meaningless comfort. _Even if you're technically not living_ supplanted the other half of his mind. Now he was talking to himself. Great. Next thing you knew he would be developing split personalities like North, too.

It bothered him that the other Guardians weren't around. Not that he really expected them to be- usually they were all off in their own respective corners of the world, tending to their own pressing matters and defending the innocence of children in their own unique way. Still, some unnamed dread continued to loom in the pit of his gut; no amount of halfhearted reassurances would chase it from the shadows. Something was going on, Jack thought, and dammed if he knew what.

Wearily, he withdrew from the comfort of the wall and made his way to the door. A sharp tug on its handle and the large metal frame swung open with little more than a screech in protest from its heavily rusted hinges. A breath Jack hadn't realized he was holding slowly escaped his lungs. Had the door been locked, leaving the building would have proven to be a whole 'nother challenge he refused to dwell too much upon.

A cool gust of wind greeted Jack as he stepped out into the night, and he inhaled the fresh air readily. A quick glance about his location showed him to be about as far as could be from the cityscape he'd been expecting. Rolling hills of dirt and desert greeted his eyes in every direction, a few hardy clumps of grass dotting the landscape in sparse patches. Above him, the sky was a sea of stars, unblemished by the lights of the city. It was a beautiful but discomforting sight. Wherever he was, Jack suspected it was far from North America.

Jack stepped away from the building, sliding a hand into the pocket of his hoodie as he looked up to the sky. He caught himself reflexively raising his right hand to rest his non-existent staff across his shoulders and scowled.

"Manny?" He shouted, feeling slightly ridiculous when he didn't immediately spot the great silver behemoth in the sky. A faint glow outlined the building in front of him, and with slight irritation Jack realized the warehouse was blocking his view.

"Manny!" Jack shouted again as he rounded its corner several minutes later. Walking, he decided irritably, was a highly inconvenient mode of transportation compared to flying. Thank god Bunny wasn't here, or he'd be running circles around him, milking his grounded state for all its worth. The oversized pooka still held a small grudge over his shrinking incident, no matter how vehemently he denied it whenever Jack prodded. His train of thought cut short as his eyes latched on to the sight of the moon.

Or rather, what was left of it.

A thin crescent, barely visible, hung like a ghost in the sky, its once cream-colored surface reduced to a sickly pale white. "Manny!" Jack shouted again, waving his hands and trying to get the moon's attention. "It's me, Jack Frost!"

No beam of light fell upon him, no glow of reassurance filled his heart. Jack knew the moon waxed and waned cycles- of course he did, he was 300 years old- but as he stared up at the being that stood as the Guardian of the Guardians, he knew that Tsar Luna was far from its usual self. The barely visible crescent felt much like a closed eye, unfocused and shied away. Was the moon _ignoring_ him? Jack wondered, incredulous and doubtful all at the same time.

_Or_, A sudden thought chilled him to the bone, _Could it be that this was all the power it had left?_

"Manny, please, tell me where I am, tell me what's going on." Jack begged, his trying without success to keep the desperate note from his voice. "Where's my staff, are the others alright? Give me something, anything."

Jack watched and hoped, eyes trained unblinkingly on the barely visible crescent. He waited a long time, but the moon did not respond.

"Please..." He whispered.

With a sigh, he allowed his head to drop and his neck muscles to relax.

It was in that instant that a flicker of light caught his eye.

Jack looked up again in time to see a single star blaze across the night sky, particles of ice and dust streaming behind it as it flew low over his head and beyond the horizon behind him. Jaw agape, he looked back to the moon in wonder. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn the crescent looked more like wink than before- though strangely tinged with sadness for reasons Jack couldn't fathom. A smile graced Jack's face in reply. "Thanks Manny. I mean it."

Steps bounding with renewed energy, he turned turned to follow the path the moon had given him. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. All he could do now was head East and hope for the best.

ooo000ooo

Jack took off at a brisk pace, eyes trained on the horizon and constantly on the look out for whatever he was supposed to discover. The moon sank slowly as he covered mile after mile, and the soles of his feet soon became dirty and sore. Except for what eventually looked to be the barest hint of mountains in the distance, there was nothing around for miles, as far as he could tell. Twice he encountered some salamander hunting for a midnight snack- one even ran through his leg while chasing after a moth, a rather disturbing sensation. Three times he was given false hope by distant cacti standing like lone warriors in the night. Jack sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He really hoped he wouldn't have to walk all the way to those mountains.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking when he realized that the stars were starting to fade into a paling navy sky. Dawn was almost upon him, then. Excellent. And still there was nothing but dirt and a cacti in the distance. The mountains had barely gained an inch in size.

"If I was supposed to turn somewhere, now would be a great time to let me know." Jack announced to the moon in a mixture of sarcasm and hope. No response came, and he muttered beneath his breath, "didn't think so."

The sun continued to rise, and with it, the temperature began a gradual but worrying climb. Even in the warehouse, Jack thought, it had never been all that cool to begin with. Spring had been just around the corner when the Guardians defeated Pitch- technically speaking, the upper hemisphere should still be adhering to the climate requirements of the Winter Spirit. But it dawned on Jack that he had no idea how long he could have possibly been out. It could have been days, or it could have been weeks. Even months. As the air around him heated past the upper forties, he began to suspect he may have missed out on a season or more.

In which case, Jack Frost was going to have a major problem on his hands.

It was impossible for the Guardians to die, at least by normal human standards. Granted, extreme falls, impacts, and other such things could do some serious damage- but unless that damage was inflicted by another supernatural being, it was guaranteed to heal, given enough time. Each did however have their own Achilles heel; Jack's was the summer, or anything that produced too much heat. For all the power and fun that came with being the winter spirit, it also left him extremely vulnerable to all things hot with extended exposure. Especially now, when he was without his staff to channel his magic.

The guardians might not be able to be killed, but they could be _erased_. Jack had seen it happen to Sandy; just bringing back the memory made him shudder. If the sun melted him today, it might be a _very_ long time before anyone realized he was missing, if they even did. He turned to ask the moon for more help, only to find it had disappeared into the periwinkle sky.

He was on his own, then. Fantastic.

Not much later, Jack noticed as he walked his eyes being continually drawn to the outline of a cactus, barely visible in the distance. Something about it was off, though he could hardly tell what from where he was. Quickening his pace, he soon became able to distinguish more of the strange object- the closer he got, the more familiar it became. It was his staff! Jack broke into a run as the first rays of sunlight came over the mountains and washed the world in light.

He skidded to a halt in front of his staff, out of breath but grinning madly ear to ear. Why it was stuck in the ground at such an odd angle, in the middle of such a desolate place, he hadn't a clue. His smile faltered slightly when he noticed the four strange rocks bearing inscriptions around it. Tied onto the front one, a worn white envelope held in place with a red packaging ribbon. _Jack, _it read in what said spirit easily identified as North's experienced scrawl. Bending down, Jack reached forward and slipped the letter loose- the ribbon fell away at the slightest tug.

What he saw beneath it made him tumble off balance.

_Nicholas St. North._

_In lasting memory._

The words were carved in intricate but worn detail onto the rounded stone.

His eyes darted to the similar stones beside it.

_Toothiana, Queen of the tooth faerie armies._

_Sanderson ManSnoozie.  
_

_E. Aster Bunnymund.  
_

_In lasting memory.  
_

_Rest in peace.  
_

Tombstones. Not stones, but _tombstones_. Arranged in a diamond, with Jack's staff at the center. Of all the things he might have expected, this was something he would never consider even in a thousand years. Jack couldn't breath, he couldn't think. The hot rays of the sun felt magnified a thousand times over as they beat down upon his back, collecting like a fire inside his chest. His mouth opened and shut repeatedly, though no sounds came out. He could have been crying, he could have been screaming. He couldn't tell. His hands began to shake, and in his stupor his hands fell to the envelope.

_Jack._

His name stared up at him blankly. Slowly, he turned it over and withdrew the note inside.

ooo00ooo

**The idea for this story has been eating at me for a while, so I decided to try my hand at it though we all know my writing skills could be better. The plot line is solidified, its just a matter of getting the story on the paper, unlike my other fanfics which were kind of spur of the moment (and inevitably didn't work out). Let me know if I should bother continuing this, reviews and critiques (I can take it!) are always appreciated :) I'm trying to keep Jack as on character as possible, let me know if its working? College is a time-killer, so at best hope for a chapter every 1 1/2 week.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Jack,_

_If you are reading this, we have failed. The children of the world no longer believe, and our time, after so many centuries, has finally come to an end._

_I do not know how much you will remember._

_Pitch has, impossibly, returned. We are unsure exactly how. Do not face him readily- in his absence he has grown powerful, and though we cannot be certain we believe he no longer works alone. Dark forces are growing steadily in the cover of the shadows. Even the moon's bright light dims steadily each day, like a candle being snuffed out in the night._

_His onslaught came without warning. Even with time to prepare, I doubt we may have been able to face him as an equal force. It was Christmas eve when his Fearlings rushed my workshop, black sand pouring through every conceivable crevice like a tidal wave of shadow. We think now that he was after you at the time, seeking the advantage of surprise in order to extinguish his biggest threat. You fought valiantly, but in the confusion of the moment it was inevitable you were overpowered and engulfed. Bloodied, unconscious, and close to death, we managed to save you. Unfortunately, the damages you suffered were more than merely physical. A strange sleep plagued your being, and your body and mind alike contorted in incessant nightmares. Sandy was able to ease your suffering somewhat; yet since then weeks have passed and still you do not wake. I do not know how much time will pass before you wake up. Hopefully, if we are lucky, you will._

_With the destruction of my workshop, Christmas did not come. There was little we could do but watch as the lights across the globe began to rapidly flicker out. When Tooth flew home, she found her palace destroyed and her faeries slain. Night after night, nightmares grew to infest the sleep of children everywhere- it has reached the point that Sandman's golden dreams will rot should Pitch's forces even come near._

_We are now on the run. In retreat, you might even say. At the moment we travel underground with Bunny as our guide, nearing the place we have decided to hide you. Easter Sunday is tomorrow morning. With it we had planned to stage a revival of faith, but over the last several hours a strange sickness has befallen the eggs, and thousands of cracked shells are now all that inhabit these once sacred fields. _

_Bunny reports the black sands are approaching - we cannot stay where we are much longer. Jack, you need to know that we will do whatever we can to keep you safe, even if it means relinquishing our titles and our lives to do it. With his new found power, Pitch still saw you as a threat. We hope this means that, given the chance, you may be able to face him. We've found a place to hide you, as well as your staff, though I will not write where should Pitch somehow discover this message. We have fought, but we have failed. We place the last of our hope in you. In giving our lives, we will give you safety. It is not a decision made lightly. Hopefully with this magic, Pitch will not find you before you awake, nor for a good while after._

_I suspect the world will have changed considerably from what you last knew of it when you awaken. Children may not believe in you again, but know that though we are gone we will have faith in you always. Stay strong Jack. We love you, and we're sorry._

_The Nightmares approach, we must run._

_North._

ooo000ooo

Someone had taken Jack's heart and crushed it in a vice. The air in his lungs felt heavy as lead. One by one, blotches of water fell to the paper, smearing the delicately laced ink.

_Tears_, some distant voice informed him.

A strangled noise cut through the deadened silence of the desert, transforming into a wretched howl of desperation and fury as Jack's fists closed tight around the parchment in their grasp. He was scarcely aware it was his own voice. His mind felt as if were spiraling into a black hole.

_It's not true_, he wanted to shout. _It can't be true._ The growing turbulence of his emotions was like boiling oil beneath his skin. The pressure was unbearable, and he felt certain he was going to explode. His forehead hit his knees abruptly as he doubled over in the sand, all but oblivious to the sudden pain. Sob after sob bubbled up from inside him, resistance eroding away until they wracked his entire body, limbs wrenched with spasms and breaths coming rapid and choked.

Jack now understood the foreboding he'd sensed in coming here. It hadn't been an effect of his slumber, it had been the absence of belief, the absence of _magic _in the world itself. The absence of the Guardians who had grown to be his friends and his family. The absence of a piece of his soul that would never be returned for as long as he was alive.

With a wet sniff he glanced down at the letter, now crumpled and moist in his hands. Anger flared briefly inside him. How could they leave him like this, expecting him to fight Pitch on his own? Almost as quickly, these thoughts overridden with guilt._ They had no other choice. You failed to protect them. Its your fault, Jack. You weren't strong enough and they died because of you._

His mind seemed to still after that. It was as though the shock of everything he had learned left him incapable of reacting to the world around him.

It felt as though time had melted into an eternity.

He wasn't sure how long he had been laying cradled in the dirt when he noticed the tip of something white poking from the envelope he had cast aside. Righting himself slowly, the ache of his old age for the first time felt in his bones, he moved to withdraw the second item.

A white sheet of paper just smaller than the size of his hand, with the words, _for you_ inscribed across the center in broad strokes. Numbly, Jack flipped it over to reveal the other side.

It was a photo of all of them, taken on Santa's sleigh. The memory brought a wobbly smile to Jack's lips. In commemoration of his accention, North had taken them all out for a spin on his jarringly red speed machine. Jack, Tooth, and Sandy all sat smiling side by side, while North crowded the seat in front of them, a meaty arm wrapped around the shoulder of a slightly green looking Bunny. Even baby Tooth was there, her head poking out of a fold in the winter spirit's hood. North must have grabbed the photo just for him, despite the haste and chaos. His eyes were drawn to a small inscription the bottom left hand corner. _Do not forget who you are, Jack._ The message was nearly enough to make him break down again.

_We will have faith in you always._ They had held such certainty in him, right until the very end. Why did they have to do that?

The heat beating down on his back grew uncomfortable enough to pierce his thoughts, and with mild surprise Jack recalled he was still sitting in the middle of a desert.

Squinting against the harsh light of the sun, he looked up to his staff, still standing protected by the shrine of his friends. _Stay strong_. They hadn't abandoned him, they had _sacrificed themselves_ for his behalf. For their sake, he had to carry on. Climbing to his feet, Jack felt this conviction kindle inside him, weak but strong enough to smoulder. He would fight for their memory. He would fight for the Guardians' belief. And he would annihilate fear.

Pitch would regret the day he ever sought to challenge the Spirit of Winter and Ice.

Jack stretched out his hand, tentatively crossing the invisible line of the diamond created by the stones. Feeling the pulse of magic return to his veins as his hands closed around his staff, he steadied his weight and pulled it free from the ground.

A mighty wind rose suddenly, and the world was lost in a blinding whirl of dust and sand. Alarmed, Jack raised his arms to shield his eyes. Panic flared inside him as he felt the crumpled letter slip from his fingers. "No!" He shouted, but in the sandstorm around him it was impossible to see where it had gone. It didn't take long for the wind to settle, but when it did both the tombstones and the letter had disappeared without a trace. _Magic,_ he realized with surprise and sorrow. Clutching his staff tightly in one hand, Jack took a long look at the photo he had managed to keep hold of before carefully slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie. _For their sake._ But first he had to get out of the sun.

ooo000ooo

Toes dragging in the dirt, Jack cursed his own stupidity. He was going to be stuck in the desert yet a while longer. Lost in mourning, he hadn't realized the extent his body had been weakening in the heat, but when an attempt to take off had achieved no more than an exceptionally high jump (and and exceptionally painful landing thereafter), the seriousness of his situation hit him full force. The irony of losing his magic so soon after reuniting with his staff burned him just as badly as the sun. There was nothing around for miles, save the mountains still far in front of him, but Jack had decided to ignore those beguiling behemoths knowing full well he would be melted away before even crossing half the distance to their sanctuary.

Thus he had chosen to focus on a dark blob of what could have been anything from a boulder to a building to a refraction of the sun's light, wavering and distorted on the distant heat of the horizon. It was a long shot, and frankly the only one he really had.

Several hours later, water was condensing and evaporating off Jack's skin at a worrying rate. He raised a sleeve to wipe the droplets running into his eyes, trying not to notice the dark patch of moisture left on the fabric when he pulled his arm away. It was just too damn hot.

"Come on wind, can't you help me out a little?" He pleaded, eyes trained somewhere just above the tip of the mountains.

A slight breeze picked up behind him in response, easing his journey forward while cooling the moisture along his back. Though a welcome relief, Jack noted the gust was decidedly weaker than what should have been possible for the element he knew so well. It may have simply been the lack of nearby trees to run through, but Jack wondered if even the spirit of the wind had been cowed by whatever forces had taken root in his absence. It was a silently disturbing notion.

It soon became obvious the wind could not keep up its aid. The breeze faltered and weakened steadily until long pauses interspersed the movement of the air, like a spent athlete struggling to catch their breath. Finally a weak gust culminated to press against his back, the air softly tousling his hair apologetically. Jack smiled understandingly as the last of the breeze slipped past his cheeks, wanting his friend to know he understood and was grateful all the same.

As the sun returned to battering his body, Jack found himself increasingly resorting to using his staff as a beam of support, until it was practically a third and heavily depended upon leg. _Step. Step. Move staff forward and shift weight to repeat process again._ By this point he had tried lifting his hood to block out the sun, only to feel the skin beneath the thick fabric feel as though it were being burned alive.

_Shift. Step. Step._

He tried not to notice how rapidly his pace was decreasing. It was becoming difficult to keep his eyes trained on the horizon without them slipping down or closing entirely.

_Step. Step._

Jack began to develop a strong compassion for all things oven-roasted. Limping along, he imagined himself in a marathon among baking cakes and meat dishes, all of them dressed in ridiculous blue jogging attire. Some sped ahead of him, some fell behind him, but one by one they eventually dropped like flies, sizzling in the heat before burning to a smoking crisp.

Crisp... Crispy. Like a dried Autumn leaf. Jack wasn't aware how far his mind was wandering as the previous mirage evaporated, thinking only that liked autumn leaves, liked tracing their veins in ice as he brought in the first frost of the winter. He looked at his hand. It looked kind of like a leaf, too, in a rounded, fleshy sort of way. It was even stuck to a branch, which was the coolest part. Jack didn't know of many leaf hands that were stuck to actual branches. He stopped walking to lift up his leaf and his branch, willing them to frost over like he made so many other leaves frost over season after season. Much to his dismay, nothing happened. After a moment Jack lowered his leaf branch and looked at it with forlorn sadness. Why did it feel so warm? It was covered in dewdrops, not ice. His thoughts lulled into nothing as his heavy lidded eyes focused emptily on the many multiplying droplets. Was it raining? But it was so sunny. Deluded as he was, Jack thought that this was a very convincing reason to take a nap.

He was moving to lower himself to the ground when a sudden wind assaulted him from the side. _Move,_ it seemed to order him in all its persistent cold clarity. Annoyance filtered through him, but Jack obediently righted himself, scarcely aware of where he was being carried as the wind veered him to the left before shoving him forward. He really wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the cold air was a welcome change from all the soggy mushy heat inside him, so he kept going.

_Step. Shift. Step. Step._

Brown, orange, and blue hues danced across his eyes, obscurely incandescent gradients that he could make neither head nor tails of. He had to keep moving, to follow the wind, for as long as he could.

His sense of space and time was melting away. Slowly, the world was fading, oranges and browns dulling into bleached whites, thick greys, and finally a mixture of onyx and obsidian grey. He pressed forward, his orientation grounded solely in the balance of his pole.

Suddenly, coolness. Scarcely present, but there. It could have been a shadow, it could have been the night- scarcely clinging to consciousness as he was Jack could hardly tell. A faint smile teased his lips as the wind disappeared around him, and with the support gone he collapsed to his knees, feeling the soft shiver of cool granite run up his legs and into his blood.

He could sleep here, he decided, even as he felt his mind begin to slip and the rest of his body falling limp to spread across the hard, smooth floor. Just for a while.

Soothing darkness rushed up on him. "Thank you," he struggled to say, managing no more than an inaudible whimper. He descended deep into slumber.

Watching from a distance, the wind smiled knowingly at its friend before dispersing back into the sky.

ooo000ooo

**Ever woken up to 70 new messages in your inbox? Its much more sobering than any alarm clock. The feedback I've received has been overwhelming and amazing. Huge, huge thanks to you all, especially those kind enough to review. This was a difficult chapter to write, and I hope it satisfies your believable backstory/emotional/Jack criteria. It was supposed to be twice as long, but meeting the 1 1/2 week deadline is difficult with my insanely busy schedule, and I believe in quality over quantity. (That being said I feel the chapter could have been polished more). As always, constructive feedback is sought in everything.**


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